The Shift
by oakroot717
Summary: What happens when two people from our world are thrust into Middle Earth. Read and find out! Somewhat AU.
1. Chapter 1

The Shift

Disclaimer: I do not, have not, and will never own the Lord of the Rings, nor would I wish it.

Author's note

This story makes reference to several tools that a blind person would use. As I am blind, I just wanted to warn you. In addition, I will attempt to emulate the style of Tolkien, so do not be alarmed. Finally, I will borrow heavily from the books but will try to keep it generally down to five to six paragraphs at a time. I will make references to the book and chapter, so if you want to check you can. If you have a problem, let me know. Also, it will flow like a normal sighted person being in Middle-Earth as far as visual descriptions go. Now I shall cease and desist with my pointless rambling, and continue onto the story. Namarie, for now.

Prologue: Rising Shadows

Space is merciless. That is a profound truth that anyone and everyone who has ever looked up at the stars and wondered about the space beyond there planet knows. Space is not kind. It is cruel and cold and black; black and cold.

Equally as black and cold is the Darkness. In this case, it isn't a generic darkness like you would find if you blew out a lamp or candle. In this case, it is darkness with a name that haunts this world our story is based upon. That darkness is Sauron, the great enemy of all the free people's of Middle-earth, known to some as Arda. And so they fight.

All the free people, such as Elves, dwarves, and men fight against Sauron and his army of fell Orcs. The Orcs do not feel anything. They are merely black-hearted tools of Sauron to be killed by sword or bow or spear. But there hearts are as black as space.

Time is a factor on this world. The battle where Sauron was defeated was at the end of the Second Age. But now, now in the Third Age of that world forces of evil are stirring. They are stirring in the deadly east, at Sauron's fortress of Barad Dur and at the traitor Saruman's defense of Orthanc. Others they have caught for there use as well, Dunlandings and men of Rhun and Harad.

But it is also the forces of good who are marshaling. And into these forces two of our world's folk are sent; two with incredible knowledge of events to come. They will brave space and time to save both worlds that they love.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1: Prophecy and Entrance

The Authors POINT of View

"Okay everyone. Today's journal is for you to write down a favorite passage from a book within the twentieth century," said my English teacher. I pondered that task for a mere moment, and then opened the Lord of the Rings on my BrailleNote. (Note: It's basically a small laptop with Braille, a language used by the blind. I probably won't make reference of it again.) I entered a search string into the "Find," field and it displayed the needed text. After removing any page numbers, I blocked the text and transferred it to my document.

"Would anyone like to share," asked my teacher.

I raised my hand and began to speak.

"Over the land there lies a long shadow, westward reaching wings of darkness. The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings doom approaches. The Dead awaken; for the hour is come for the oathbreakers: at the Stone of Erek they shall stand again and hear there a horn in the hills ringing. Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people? The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North shall he come, need shall drive him: he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead."

(The Return of the King, Book 5, Chapter 2.)

As I was speaking, the light began to grow dark. Even though I only had light perception in one eye, I could still tell it was definitely growing darker, and it seemed that it foreboded something. Then, I felt myself flying forward as if shot and land on soft ground.

The ground was covered in pine needles. It formed a soft thatch for what I thought may have been dirt otherwise. Then I heard voices up ahead, and one of them was definitely not human.

"Who are you," asked the first (non-human) voice. My sister, of all people, replied.

"I'm Krista Botting, and I have no idea where I am."

"Krista, are you all right," I called, concernedly.

"Greg, where are we?"

"I have no idea." As I spoke, I realized my voice was similar to that of the unknown first speaker's voice. Was I an elf?

"It would seem that you two come of another realm. You had best come with me. Gildor will know what to do."

Gildor Inglorien, I thought. This was definitely curious.

"Might I know your name Sir," said the elf.

"Give me yours and I will give you mine," I said, paraphrasing a quotation from Gimli.

"I am Menlor, of the house of Finrod."

"Mae govannen, Menlor of the house of Finrod. I am Greg of the house of Botting."

"Then come friends," said the elf. "It would seem there is more than one tale to tell here."

Upon reaching Gildor, I heard him saying: "These things Gandalf must know. I suppose that you will see him before you leave the Shire?" (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 1, Chapter 3.)

Stepping from the shadows, I spoke across Frodo, not caring if I contaminated the time line. "Frodo, son of Drogo, you are in great peril."

Turning towards me he spoke. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I wish to consult both with you and Gildor here. Mae govannen, Gildor Inglorien of the house of Finrod," I added as an afterthought.

"Mae govannen, but my question seems to parallel Frodo's. Menlor, who are these two young ones who come with you?"

"They were on the outskirts of the camp. Greg here greeted me in our own tongue, and as you can see, he has the face of an elf."

I instinctively felt my ears. They were pointed. "But how do you know of us," asked Frodo.

"We know much," I replied darkly then said, "Frodo, your quest is fraught with danger. The riders that pursue you are indeed servants of the Enemy. Do you remember the line about Men in the verse of the Ring?"

"Nine to mortal men doomed to die. I remember the line."

"These are the wraiths of the men who were enslaved by the power of the Ring. They are the Nine, the Nazgul of Minas Ithil, and now Morgul."

"Alas, do not speak of them," cried Gildor. "This is fell news indeed."

"Is someone going to introduce me, or have I faded into the woodwork," asked Krista.

"My apologies. This is Krista my sister. We are of another world, and offer our assistance, free of charge," I said to Frodo.

"I will take it, but I see you are blind," he said.

"I will adapt, as I have always done."

"I would put in a word of advice. Have Krista go with my messengers. She will be safe."

"I want to help," said Krista.

"No," I said. "Go with Gildor." I added in an undertone, "If this is Middle-earth, you never know what's around the corner."

"Why?"

"It will be dangerous. I do not doubt your ability, only your courage," I said.

"As you wish," she muttered darkly.

Gildor now spoke. "I name you two Elf-friends and shall send messages to our kin east of the Baranduin, called the Brandywine in your tongue. Greg, you need no identification, as you are an Elf."

"Thank you Gildor Inglorien. Now, I will rest after the fashion of our people. Namarie, Gildor of Finrod's house."

"Namarie. May Elbereth shine upon the ends of your roads, where ever they may take you."

As I walked about, I examined my pack. It contained food, clothing, water, a slate and stylus, (a blind person's version of a paper and pencil) a sword, and several thick books of paper. I quickly flicked through them and calculated I had nearly eight thousand sheets. That was multiplied by a factor of two because people can use a certain kind of slate on two sides of a page. I wondered just how I was going to communicate in written Elvish, but that was not the least of my concerns.

Would I and my sister throw the axis of things off its tilt? Would we even survive? These questions, and other, darker portents past across my mind as I gazed at the stars in the cool night air.

In the morning, Sam and Pippin had the same general questions as Frodo, and I answered them as best I could, without giving too much away. I very nearly told them about the end of the story, but restrained myself. They were very inquisitive as to my garb, and I realized that I'd have to change into something more appropriate for the time period. That is, I'd have to change into something vaguely resembling something from the fourteenth century on Earth.

To this end, I dug some clothes out of my pack and asked for some privacy. I was given it, and changed into a green tunic that blended well with the foliage. In addition, I added a brown cloak to ward off any wind. Upon my belt, I girded the sword contained within my pack. It was a slim affair, light but deadly sharp. Down its blade ran runes which I couldn't read. I supposed it was Elvish, and took that as a good sign.

After Frodo was done "thinking," we set off. I muttered an internal curse as we came to the stream, and resolved that I'd be dirtier than I'd ever been before. Soon it began to rain, and not just little flurries; great fat drops of water cascading in every direction. We tramped across, getting muddy with nearly every step.

I now reckoned that it was the twenty-fifth of September (Shire Reckoning), and calculated that we'd left our world on the fifth of October. After running some rough calculations I made a mental note to myself that we'd be spending my sister's birthday tramping from Caradhras to Moria, and mine would take place after the fall of Barad-Dur.

We tramped on, and by mid-day had reached the elm tree just before Farmer Maggot's field. I paced the little area restlessly. The hobbits asked me to join them, but I said no, for I knew the Nazgul would notice us, and brooded. I cursed as the Rider's screamed, then assisted the rest of them in packing up.

We hurried along, and soon reached the end of the trees Then Pippin spoke up. "I know these fields and this gate! This is Bam Furlong, old Farmer Maggot's land." (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 1, Chapter 4.)

"Here it comes," I muttered to myself.

"Here what comes," asked Sam curiously.

"Whether my elfin appearance is enough to set old Maggot off, and whether he likes Frodo or not."

"You're right about the second part of that answer. When I was a lad, Maggot caught me several times making off with his prized mushrooms. Let's just say it came down to a beating and a chase the last time he caught me."

"Well if you're going to be living in Buckland, you may as well get reacquainted with old Farmer Maggot," said Pippin. "Let me do the talking."

As we walked along I contemplated future events. What exactly was the Old Forest? Was it full of "Black Huorns," as Treebeard would have called them, or was the place simply full of Entwives. I thought the former much more likely as the Entwives would seem to at least be fairly friendly, but Huorns were unpredictable. Then a great baying and barking went up and I was drawn back to the real world.

I stayed in the back as introductions were made, until Pippin got to me. "Hello, hello, what have we got here."

Just to confuse him I smiled and said, "Mae govannen, friend Maggot. I trust you're well enough."

"Oh fine. But you're an elf?"

"It would seem so. But I see you are troubled. What has frightened you? Is it the prospect of black men on black horses coming over your fields?"

"You seem to know a lot about them, and yes a funny customer did come over my fields and rode away just now."

"I do indeed. Now then, I think it best we go inside and discuss the matter further. My name is Greg Botting by the way."

"Well now come in all of you. Uh, I'm afraid it's a bit low," he said to me.

"That's perfectly all right. As long as I keep above ground, I'll be fine, no offense to any of you."

"What is mae govannen," asked Frodo.

"Technically it's a Silvan greeting, but I don't know anything else so that's what I fall back on."

"Ah."

"So what'll you be having," said Maggot as we entered the kitchen. "I've got a fine beer if you'd like to try any."

"No thank you. I don't want to be rude, but am on a non-alcoholic diet, at least for now." (I was thinking of the traditional Rohirric mead cup as I spoke.)

"Well now where was I," said Farmer Maggot, presently. "Ah yes. I had just heard the name Baggins before you turned up. What do you think that funny customer asked me?"

We waited anxiously for him to go on, though I knew what was coming. "Well," the farmer continued, approaching his point with slow relish, "he came riding on a big black horse in at the gate, which happened to be open, and right up to my door. All black he was himself, too, and cloaked and hooded up, as if he did not want to be known. "Now what in the Shire can he want?" I thought to myself. We don't see many of the Big Folk over the border; and anyway I had never heard of any like this black fellow.

""Good-day to you!" I says, going out to him. "This lane don't lead anywhere, and wherever you may be going, your quickest way will be back to the road." I didn't like the looks of him; and when Grip came out, he took one sniff and let out a yelp as if he had been stung: he put down his tail and bolted off howling. The black fellow sat quite still. ""I come from yonder," he said, slow and stiff-like, pointing back west, over my fields, if you please. "Have you seen Baggins?" he asked in a queer voice, and bent down towards me. I could not see any face, for his hood fell down so low; and I felt a sort of shiver down my back. But I did not see why he should come riding over my land so bold.

""Be off!" I said. "There are no Bagginses here. You're in the wrong part of the Shire. You had better go back west to Hobbiton--but you can go by road this time."

""Baggins has left," he answered in a whisper. "He is coming. He is not far away. I wish to find him. If he passes will you tell me? I will come back with gold."

""No you won't," I said. "You'll go back where you belong, double quick. I give you one minute before I call all my dogs."

"He gave a sort of hiss. It might have been laughing, and it might not. Then he spurred his great horse right at me, and I jumped out of the way only just in time. I called the dogs, but he swung off, and rode through the gate and up the lane towards the causeway like a bolt of thunder. What do you think of that?" (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 1, Chapter 4.) It has been slightly modified for this story.)

"I think," I said, "That this is ill news. What do you say Frodo?"

"I don't know," he said. "What would you advise Greg."

"Since the suns already setting, I'd like to have supper first, and then an escort to the ferry. Wouldn't you agree Farmer Maggot?"

"I would indeed. It'll save you the trouble, and walking after dark."

"Well," said Frodo, "Why not."

"Excellent," I said, then (more to myself than anyone in particular), "the time line is still unbroken."

Soon everyone was sitting round the big table. I talked and laughed with the hobbits, not that it made much sense. Still, I enjoyed myself immensely, so much so that I almost told about Tom Bombadil, and who I thought Gandalf really was. It was a severe strain not to."

As we were leaving, a whisper in my head startled me. "You can have everything if you just take the Ring. You just need to bring it to me, and all will be well. You can have whatever you want, gold, and slaves, whatever."

"I want none of it, Melkor's lapdog," I spat.

"You all right," asked Frodo.

"Isildur's Bane beckons," I said, "but I am resisting, for all our sakes."

The wagon was small so I opted to jog along beside it. It would get me in shape as well as increase my ability to hear things at different angles. As we went along through the mist, I contemplated Bombadil, Aragorn, and the attack at Weathertop. I postulated the theory that Bombadil was part of the Maiar, an ancient race of Valinor of which Luthien was but half. That brought to mind Aragorn. Would I be able to keep the Ranger's cover intact until we reached Rivendell? I knew Gandalf's message told the Hobbits his real name, but would I be able to keep that under wraps? I didn't know. Lastly came the attack on Weathertop. Could I possibly not try and stop it? Was there a chance that the Nazgul would hurt me instead? I didn't know that one either.

I heard hoof beats a long way off. "Stop the wagon," I said.

"Why," asked the farmer.

"Hooves."

As soon as Frodo was down in the wagon I called out, "Master Merry, you can show yourself any time!"

Out of the mist came a pony, and as I knew he would, Merry was astride it. "What's the meaning of this," he asked. "What is one of the Big Folk doing over the borders, and addressing me so familiarly?"

"I'm not just any Big Person. As you may be able to tell, I'm an elf, and I'm assisting Frodo on his way," I said, trying to keep the contempt from my voice. "Come on out Frodo, it's only Merry!"

"Well, this is strange and no mistake," said Farmer Maggot.

"It is indeed," I said, "for many fair things shall fade, but great evil shall also be eradicated. Now then, I think we'd best be going."

Maggot handed down the mushrooms, then turn for home. Once he was gone, I turned to Merry. "I apologize for my rudeness. I am an elf, but know what's going to happen. I offer my services free of charge."

"Well thank you. What's your name though?"

"Call me Greg."

Quiet laughter greeted this statement. I knew the irony of it, but was curious. "Who's laughing?"

"It's me you dimwit. Can't you identify your own sister?"

"You little nincompoop! I told you to go with Gildor!"

"Well, I split."

"Who's this," asked Merry, Pippin and Sam in unison. Frodo stayed quiet.

"This," I said, "is my sister Krista. We are both of another world, and I seem to have been transformed into an elf. Anyway, let's get across the Brandywine before the Nazgul catch us."

"Nazgul? Who are the Nazgul," asked Pippin.

"The Black Riders."

We walked down the path to the Ferry, and I gave Krista a talking to. "You should have done what I asked you to. It's too dangerous," and so forth and so on.

She replied coolly, "I was getting bored with those Elves. Gildor especially was trying my patience."

"Well, you'll just have to bear with your decision. Are you ready to walk through the Forest? I don't think they have ponies for the two of us."

"I'm not prepared to walk."

"Well then, I'll just have to carry you, pack and all."

"I'll walk."

"Good. Heres the ferry."

I want to thank the person who reviewed, and I have a question. How do you search for authors on this site? Send a review if you know how to search, and please sign it if you have an account. Farewell.


End file.
